


How to Raise Shapeshifters

by Only_1_Truth



Series: Three's Company [7]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Agents-in-training, Alternate Universe - College/University, Cat Q, Gen, Hugs, JAQ if you squint, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, Protective Alec Trevelyan, Protective James Bond, Q is a cinnamon bun, Q's trip to Medical is not fun, Supernatural Elements, Superpowers, shapeshifters and telepaths are normal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 00:43:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15875036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Only_1_Truth/pseuds/Only_1_Truth
Summary: It's time for everyone to return to MI6 - so that Q can sign a million and a half non-disclosure forms, and become an unofficial part of MI6.  Too bad things don't go as planned.Or: the fic in which Medical tries to see if they can figure out why Q has blackouts when he shapeshifts, and end up traumatizing him instead.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MinMu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinMu/gifts).



> So I thought that this series was over, but I was wrong...

James’ telepathy was still off by the time the intrepid trio woke up the next morning - or, rather, afternoon.  The trials and tribulations of the day before had knocked so much energy out of them that they remained a tangled lump of limbs until Q’s grumbling stomach awoke him around 2 pm the next day.  Since his memories of the night before pretty much ended when he’d been tucked into James’ hood, Q was quite surprised not only to find himself in the older boys’ room, but quite thoroughly tangled between them.  James and Alec were still so out of it that they barely stirred even as Q went through a tiny existential crisis and then began the clumsy process of extricating himself.  They grunted as Q inadvertently kneed and elbowed everyone equally, but Q still managed to exit the bed without actually waking anyone, which was either a miracle or a testament to just how tired the two agents-in-training were.  

Q busied himself with finding something to eat, and after eyeing the rather lamentable kitchenette (university standard, no doubt), settled on toast and marmite and a mug of whatever caffeinated drink he could find.  Alec rolled out of bed with a groan and thump of heavy feet hitting the floor about five minutes later, and while James grumbled something indistinct but grumpy-sounding in the background, Trevelyan wordlessly got up and shuffled over to help Q find some tea.  Still shirtless, his sleep-trousers slung low about his hips, Alec leaned against the counter and tried to rub some wakefulness into his whole face while Q yawned and steeped some Earl Grey.  James muttered something else, the words barely intelligible because they were growled straight into a pillow.  Alec must have been able to translate the noise, though, because he got his voice working to rasp, “Stop being such a cranky sod and get up.  We have to do paperwork at MI6, remember?”  James replied by lifting just one finger, and not a polite one. 

Q arched an eyebrow at the exchange, distractedly watching the play of muscles on James’ bare back as the Telepath remained sprawled on his front.  It was a novel experience for Q, usually an intrepid night-owl, to be the closest thing to an early-bird at the moment. 

Somewhere in the middle of Alec eating his own toast and Q asking politely if there was honey somewhere, James did get up.  His eyes remained slitted mostly closed even as he gained his feet and made a beeline towards the loo.  It was Alec who shed some light on the situation, saying even as the shower turned on in the other room, “Migraine, I’d bet money on it.”  At Q’s quizzical look, Trevelyan explained further, “Even with the drugs they gave him, James still pushed his Gift pretty hard yesterday, and nothing like that comes for free.  You have those memory gaps - James gets migraines.”

“And you?” Q had to ask, lifting an eyebrow again as he took a sip of tea.

Alec shrugged.  “I’m just perfect.”

James was marginally more human by the time he came out of the shower, hair spiky and a darker shade of gold.  He was verbal enough to admit at that point that he “couldn’t hear a fucking thing,” meaning telepathically.  He looked miffed about that in a way Q hadn’t seen before - more than annoyed, more than inconvenienced, almost angry.  

“You know they probably muted your Gift to keep you from having a brain aneurysm or something,” Alec pointed out.  At this point, he looked like he was hunting for clothing for all three of them: Q didn’t have any clothes besides the ones he’d slept in, and James was still struggling with the concept of breakfast.  

Since James had been looking at actual food with a queasy expression, Q had since handed him a mug of unsweetened tea.  James had the mug up close to his face, but his glare over top of the rim was incendiary.  “I’d have preferred the aneurysm,” he snarled in such a harsh tone that Q almost thought he meant it.  Before anyone could call James’ bluff, Alec found a pullover that he optimistically thought might fit Q and tossed it over.  James freed up one hand to catch a second shirt, and soon their little clan was moving on to the next stage of being functional adults, dressing and preparing to leave.  Q was stuck with the same pants and trousers from yesterday, and felt like a pre-teen again with his pullover bagging all over him, but Alec insisted that it was fine and James agreed.  They called a cab instead of driving.

Before leaving the comfort of Alec and James’ shared rooms, though, James halted them with a hand on Q’s shoulder and an ‘I don’t really want to talk about this’ look on his face.  Alec paused with everyone else, cocking his head but saying nothing, while Q turned at the behest of the hand on his shoulder, eyes full of questions.  James remained silent for a moment, closed his eyes as if either gathering himself or sublimating the throbbing in his head (he’d taken painkillers, but it didn’t seem to be helping yet), and then gave Q a bit of information that he quite frankly wasn’t expecting: “M’s a Telepath, too.  Don’t tell anyone.”

Alec sucked in a breath, but didn’t look surprised.  He merely watched Q’s reaction as the youngest of their trio stared at James with eyes suddenly widened to saucers behind his glasses.  “That,” he finally hissed, with a quiet sort of fury that was oddly reminiscent of his cat-self in a tiff, “would have been _way more fucking useful_ to know earlier.”

“To be fair,” Alec defended his roommate, “we’ve already been lectured on giving out secrets.”

“That argument doesn’t hold much water,” Q grumped back, shaking James’ hand off and turning stubbornly towards the door, “since you’ve told me so many other things.  So what else don’t I know?”

James was looking pained. It was hard to tell if the pain was physical or emotional, though.  Either way, his silver tongue didn’t seem up to the task of answering, leaving Alec to come to the rescue again as best he could, “Now, Q, that’s not fair.  We told you everything about us - but telling you about the head of MI6 would be like sharing someone else’s secret, you know?”

Despite himself, Q found his anger softening.  Still frowning (but a bit less harshly), he looked between Alec and James.  He saw nothing on their expressions but sincerity mixed with guilt, and that finally had him sighing and letting his shoulders sag in defeat.  “Fine,” he huffed.  He sensed the other young men relax, and out of the corner of his eye saw Alec’s intrepid grin return.  “I suppose it’s all going to be a moot point soon anyway, once I sign my soul away to MI6 and become an official secret-keeper.”

“That’s the spirit!” Alec praised, and with a slap on Q’s back, propelled their little trio into motion again.

~^~

James with his telepathy off was a strange thing.  His quietness was most likely due to having a headache still, but even as that faded, he remained tense in a way that Q couldn’t help but be concerned about.  Alec didn’t seem bothered, but at the same time, he toned down the teasing and mostly just conversed with Q as the three of them sat squeezed into the back of the taxi.  Q had thought that James might sit up front, but despite his stroppy attitude, the blue-eyed young man had seemed keen on sticking close to his friends.  It wasn’t until they got out and started going through MI6 security that James got ahead of them a bit - partially because Alec hooked a hand on Q’s shoulder, holding him back a few steps with a significant look.  As James entered MI6 proper ahead of them, Alec whispered against Q’s ear, voice serious for once, “James has had his Gift turned off before, and he handles it about as well as a cat handles declawing.”

Q turned his head, baffled but also concerned, since he himself spent a large portion of his life lately as a cat.  “What do you mean?”  He remembered to match Alec’s volume, words hushed.  James didn’t seem to have noticed the conversation going on behind him.  

“I mean,” Alec said, making a face and looking a bit regretful, “that when people declaw cats, they don’t realize that it sometimes just makes them meaner.  You take away their first line of defense, and they feel like they don’t have any other option but to go straight to biting.”  Sighing, Alec finished the analogy, “James is in a biting mood.  M will probably pull him aside as soon as she realizes we’re here.”

“Why?”

“Because last time Medical dosed him up like this, he started a fight and broke someone’s wrist.  Our James is not a friendly fellow when he feels like he’s been disarmed,” Alec said gravely, and when Q’s eyes widened, Alec gave a helpless shrug.  He added unhesitantly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “He really only trusts us, Q.”

Q looked forward to James again with new eyes, realizing that he had no way to argue that point.  He felt simultaneously sad and proud to realize what a prestigious and exclusive little clan he’d been brought into.  Picking up his pace a little bit, Q caught up with James, making sure to stick to Bond just as Bond had stuck to him since they’d left the flat - Alec caught up on the other side, and perhaps James’ expression eased just a little bit.  

Oddly enough, it still looked more like James was protecting them rather than looking out for himself, as his eyes took in everything around them and his posture radiated a kind of casual threat.  Q was reminded of yesterday, in M’s office, when James had unexpectedly scooped him up behind his jacket.  In that moment, it had felt like James meant to hide Q away from MI6 itself.

~^~

As Alec predicted, M herself appeared to greet them almost as soon as the trio entered MI6 proper - and her eyes were on James immediately.  Q winced internally as he noted the way James’ stance became almost instantly belligerent, and the boffin reflected that Alec was most certainly right.  As counterintuitive as it seemed, it appeared that James was quicker to pick fights when his ‘claws’ were taken away. 

“None of that,” M said to James sternly, probably getting an even clearer picture of James’ mood than Q was.  James didn’t reply verbally, but considering what Q had just recently learned about M, she was probably getting an earful anyway.  

Suddenly, M’s eyes flicked past James to land on Q.  Almost as soon as Q registered the attention, James sidestepped, breaking M’s line of sight with about as much subtlety as a sledgehammer.  Nonetheless, M spoke and addressed Q quite calmly, “I see that there’s one more secret that I’ll have to have you sign paperwork for, Mr. Boothroyd.  At this rate, you’ll be reading non-disclosure agreements until you’re old and grey.”

Q had the good grace to flush with embarrassment, realizing that not only had he been found out, but that he was doomed to always be found out, with M being a Telepath far more powerful than James and without the respect for Q’s privacy that James seemed to maintain.  It wasn’t that James wasn’t nosy - he really could be - but Q definitely got the sense that he’d have no headspace to himself while in this woman’s company. 

He was startled out of his thoughts by James suddenly hissing in a breath and hunching his shoulders in sudden pain.  “James?” Alec asked, voice worried and posture uneasy.

“Your partner is just fine, Mr. Trevelyan,” M replied.  Her own tone sounded like it was hiding a jaded sigh, although Q still couldn’t see her because James was in the way.  “Or, rather, he would be if he didn’t insist on using his Gift with medication and overexertion still working against him.  If you’d come with me, Mr. Bond, I believe a little chat is in order, teacher to protégé .  Mr. Boothroyd?”

Q straightened, and when he did so, was just able to see the head of MI6 past James’ shoulder.  He was irrationally pleased to otherwise be blocked off from the woman still, even if he was sure his mind was still wide open.  

Or was it?  He was sure she’d have commented on his earlier thoughts…

M finished before Q could pursue that line of mental questioning, “You have an appointment with HR.  I imagine that Mr. Trevelyan would like to accompany you.”  She arched an eyebrow that said that really wasn’t a question.

Immediately, Alec snapped to attention, surprised for all of a second before recovering.  “Er… yes.  Definitely!”  A glance between M and James seemed to tell him something, and while Alec pursed his lips for a moment, he ultimately ended up turning towards Q, encouraging, “Come on, Q.  Those papers won’t sign themselves!”

While Q wasn’t entirely buying into the false cheer in Alec’s voice, he wasn’t stupid enough to think that this was something that was up for debate.  At least James looked steadier, his brief moment of unsteadiness gone, and his shoulders a stubborn bulwark again, back to Q as if M were an enemy he was facing off against.  That thought both troubled Q and made him begin to feel a bit protective himself, and for a second, he braced his feet instead of following Alec’s lead.

He thought he just barely heard M chuckle.  “Your loyalty is commendable, Mr. Boothroyd, but I assure you, you and I want to keep James safe in equal amounts.  You’ll all see each other again later today.”

~^~

M ended up leading James straight to Medical.  Despite her saying that she and her Gift-protégé  needed to talk, it was a wordless walk down the halls, a tense silence stretching between them as they left the other two young men behind.  M silently cursed having a protégé  as stubborn as she was, even as she grudgingly admitted that she sometimes found those traits in James endearing.

“I’m impressed by the mental shields you’re maintaining,” M observed, “especially considering that the medications you’re on won’t fully wear off for another few hours.”  She let that sink in for just a heartbeat before going on more drily, “However, I’m not sure how wise it was to use that little trick of yours again so soon after overextending yourself yesterday.”

“Maybe I thought that it was impolite for a grown woman to be digging around in the mind of an ignorant kid,” James replied with all the silkiness of the edge of the razorblade.

Oh, two could play that game.  “You saw to that, though, didn’t you?  It seems that Mr. Boothroyd is less ignorant every time I turn around.”  M ensured that her tone was entirely idle, pleasant even.  It was like a game they played, on days like this, when James was feeling cantankerous but still somehow remembered that he was playing a game of spies - or soon would be, someday.  

“And he’ll be signing paperwork for that accordingly,” James strategically acquiesced instead of fighting back.  Smart boy.  He knew an untenable position when he saw one.  “But as of five minutes ago, he hadn’t signed yet, and was still a civilian.”

M gave into the urge to snort delicately.  “You’re under the assumption that I don’t read the minds of civilians.”

James demurred silkily, “Well, I imagine that reading the minds of civilians creates a lot of paperwork and bad press when it _inevitably_ gets out, and I’ve been told that you hate those things.  Am I wrong?”

M had the sinking premonition that James - and his partner Alec - would be creating a lot of both of those things (paperwork and bad press when they _inevitably_ got out into the world), sometime in her future.  If nothing else, Bond’s ability to wield both innocence and threat in his tone was the kind of thing that would undoubtedly drive people to either love him or shoot at him.  Probably both.  “Don’t test me, Bond,” she warned, trying to keep her voice stern when it wanted to be fond.  The blue-eyed young man merely grunted, but the two of them left it at that.  

James was no idiot; he knew that M’s Gift was stronger than his, and that if she really wanted to get into Q’s head, there was very little he could do about it.  Hell, despite her comment about his shielding, neither of them doubted that M could force her way through that, too.  However, just as James knew that M had power, he also trusted that she had as many morals as her job allowed - which would perhaps be enough to keep her out of Q’s head… provided that none of the little trio tested her too much.

~^~

James went to Medical to get another check-up as well as a brain scan or two to ensure that the more reckless of MI6’s two Telepath’s hadn’t blown a fuse in his head.  Alec and Q, meanwhile, went to HR where they were both subjected to mountains of paperwork - Alec as punishment, Q as damage control, since there was no way to get him to forget all that he’d learned about MI6.  The whole experience was actually rather reassuring to Q, because it meant that he wasn’t going to be shipped off to Siberia or quietly assassinated.  Alec, though, groaned and complained as if he were being tortured, and everyone breathed a bigger sigh of relief when the agent-in-training was released from paperwork than when Q himself finished up.

That’s when the next surprise came.

“We want you to come down to Medical, Mr. Boothroyd.  The doctor would like to check on how the laceration on your hand is healing, and after hearing about your difficulty transforming, she’d also like to run some tests,” a very nice young nurse informed Q almost as soon as the paperwork was cleared away.

Q shot a slightly uneasy look in Alec’s direction, but the other young man merely shrugged, his face saying that he hadn’t seen this coming either, but couldn’t see any problem with it.  Q’s injury looked a lot less seriously when he was a human than when he was a small feline, but it undoubtedly needed another check - however, he’d never had anyone try and look for a medical reason behind his post-shift blackouts.  The sudden possibility of there being something physically wrong with him put a cold shot of ice into Q’s system, although he pushed the fear down where it wouldn’t show on his face.  Trying to be as professional as possible in wrinkled trousers and an oversized pullover, Q looked back to the nurse and nodded, “I… er…  Of course.  Would it be possible if Alec-?”  He was about to ask if Alec could come with him, in a moment of weakness, but before he could finish there was a flutter of feathers and a familiar weight plunking down on his shoulder. 

When Q looked over, Alec - now in raven form - gave a croaking chortle from his new perch.  Q’s question was irrelevant.

“Actually, Mr. Trevelyan is wanted elsewhere-” the nurse started to say, but frowned when Alec let out a raucous caw.  Q winced, less because the noise hurt his ears and more because he was embarrassed by his friend’s stubborn behavior.  Fortunately, the results were positive, as the nurse sighed and gave in, “But I suppose he can accompany you to Medical.  Our neurologist is in today, and just finished with Mr. Bond, whom I’m told is with you.”

Feeling his mood lighten at the prospect of them all being together again in this foreign and faintly hostile territory, Q smiled and nodded again, and soon was being led down the halls.  Usually James was the resident perch (for both Alec and Q), but the raven's weight on Q’s shoulder was not unfamiliar, and Alec’s distracting behavior was certainly commonplace - Q kept having to deal with a curious beak nibbling at his earlobe.  It was horrendously embarrassing, but it managed to get Q’s mind off the growing worry in the back of his mind, that this upcoming check-up might yield results he didn’t want to hear.

That was, unfortunately, exactly what happened.

~^~

James was just leaving his own appointment with the neurologist as Alec and Q arrived, and while he still looked pretty rough around the edges, the blue-eyed young man perked up a little when he saw his companions.  Alec cawed and Q flashed a small smile, although at that point, James and Alec were both informed that they had agent-training-y stuff to do.  Q’s insides were knotted up with nerves, but he was starting to feel a lot like a kid being babysat, so perhaps it was his ego that had him opening his mouth and telling his friends that he’d be fine - that they should go and do what they needed to do.  James looked briefly suspicious, a troubled line forming between his brows, but apparently his Gift wasn’t back at full force yet, because he took Q at his word.  Alec transferred himself to James’ waiting shoulder after one last beaking of Q’s ear and a flutter of inky feathers. 

Left alone, Q turned nervous eyes to the neurologist, who had just entered the room.

The whole endeavor was doomed from the start. Dr. Harper was a large and imperious woman, and it was quickly apparent that she was used to dealing with big, tough, troublesome agents - not more sensitive boffins like Q, who had no interest in being troublesome and in fact had rarely ever gone to the doctor before.  Q was not only well-behaved but generally healthy, last night’s visit to Medical excluded.  Q soon found himself missing the friendly, vet-trained nurse of the night before, as Dr. Harper took him into an exam room and began peppering him with questions. 

Next came an MRI, which Q was not prepared for.  He told himself to stop being dramatic about it - what else should he have expected, when told that MI6 wanted to look at his brain? - and instead of getting bellicose, he just did as he was told.  At least no one made him change into some horrible hospital gown, although lying down on the table with his head facing what may as well have been a giant white butthole didn’t exactly make him any more comfortable.  It only got worse once he lay down, because the table made a disconcerting grinding noise as it rose - and then what looked like a white cage was lowered down over his head.  Q told himself that ‘cage’ was the wrong word, and that it wasn’t as bad as all that, but already he could feel his nerves rising.  He wasn’t even aware that he was fidgeting until Dr. Harper told him in no uncertain terms that he was to hold perfectly still, in a tone that would have made even a seasoned agent behaved.  Q, though, who was not a seasoned agent, it just made more scared.  Still, he bit the inside of his cheek and tangled his fingers tightly together over his stomach to still their wriggling, and tried to focus on staying calm.  His mind wouldn’t stay still, though, and insisted on informing him that healthy people shouldn’t have to get MRIs, that something was deeply wrong with him.  Like cancer.  Like a tumor.  Like a brain aneurysm that just somehow hadn’t killed him yet.

And then two pads were stuffed into the ‘head-cage’ against either ear, holding his head in place, and he abruptly began to feel claustrophobic.  All of that before he’d even been slid into the MRI machine. 

“Don’t move, or the images won’t turn out and we’ll have to do this again,” he was informed one more time, before Dr. Harper disappeared, presumably to watch for pictures of Q’s fucked-up brain.  He’d heard her mention that she wanted to get scans of him mid-shift, and the mere thought already had him screwing his eyes shut and trying to regulate his breathing.  He already hated this, and didn’t want to do it again - or any other kind of scan - especially not while transforming.  While he’d gotten a bit more relaxed about changing shape, he still hated doing it when he wasn’t around James and Alec, but if MI6 told him to-

The noise started.  It startled Q so badly that he nearly slammed his forehead against the white material curved above his face.  Had someone told him there would be noise?  Maybe.  The was buzzing and clanging, and it felt like being tossed into the middle of a construction site, only there were no visual cues telling him where the noise was coming from or what heavy objects to avoid.  It was only then that he realized that there were little mirrors above his head, tilted to allow him to see out of this bloody thing without having to move his head - which, for all of three seconds, was like a breath of fresh air.  He still had noises bombarded him from all sides and felt trapped even though very little was actually touching him, but for a second he could easily see the literal light at the end of the tunnel, and if he wiggled his toes he could see his shoes move.  

And then someone entered his range of vision.  It took a moment for Q to recognize the person, because they weren’t dressed as Medical staff, meaning at first Q just wanted to know why the fuck they were there… and then he saw scratches on a male hand and only a beat later recognized one of the agents that had chased him down and captured him in his flat.

Q was thrashing and transforming before he knew it. Dr. Harper, whether she liked it or not, was getting her wish to scan Q while shape-shifting...

~^~

Q’s mind blanked out like it usually did, and when he came back to himself again, he wasn’t in Medical anymore and he didn’t recognize the voices he could hear getting closer:

“Did you see that?”

“It looked like a cat.  A really small one.”

“Cute, fuzzy little thing, though.”

“But what’s a cat doing in _our branch_?”

Panic still fresh in his mind like an open wound, Q panted through parted teeth while trying to desperately orient himself.  He started shaking as he realized that he recognized nothing, and that he was surrounding by tall, looming tables and workbenches, and the only reason he hadn’t been spotted yet was that his current hiding place was behind a toolbox three times his size.  And to top it all off, his paw hurt.  A quick glance at the pad informed him that at least he hadn’t opened up the wound again, but the pain was throbbing all the way up to his elbow, and on top of all his other fears and stresses, it made him want to cry.  

He heard footsteps, big and loud and getting closer.  Instincts had Q moving before he could even think about it, wide eyes scanning all around for a better hiding place - the first thing they landed upon, he immediately bolted towards.  A car.  The fact that it was indoors and half-dismantled on top of a dirty tarp barely registered, because Q’s day was already too far beyond the pale for anything to be weird.  He bit back a sound of discomfort as his injured forepaw landed on bits of grit and dirt, and was mostly limping along on three legs by the time he got up under the body of the car.  Then, because he was feeling small, exposed, and entirely too fragile, Q hopped up onto an exposed stretched of axle.  He crouched there for a moment, panting open-mouthed again, trying to convince himself that he was safe. 

Then he heard another burst of conversation as the voices got even closer, and his fragile bubble of calm popped again.  Ears flattening to his head, Q searched the car around him frantically until he found an opening that he could worm through, pushing common sense aside in favor of burrowing his way deeper into the vehicle like a turtle retreating into its hard shell.  Q’s synthetic ‘shell’ was a helluva lot tougher than a turtle’s, and a lot larger, but it really wasn’t all that much roomier and definitely was dirtier, as Q squeezed himself through some tight places that left his fur smeared and sticky. By now the smell had clogged up his delicate nose, and he stopped to sneeze and then froze, afraid that he’d been noticed.  Logically, he knew that this was not how he should address his problems… but _dammit_ , he just didn’t want to be found by _strangers_.  He wasn’t feeling well, his head was still trying to recover from another blackout, and deep down he was sure that he had some sort of life-threatening tumor in his head that was causing him to be so fucking bad at shapeshifting.  None of those issues were immediately solvable by people that Q didn’t even know and certainly didn’t trust.

He wanted to go _home_.  And by ‘home’ he meant two beds pushed up against each other with his two best friends in the whole wide world in them with him, embarrassingly close and maybe even snoring, awkwardness be damned.  

Q shuffled to one side and held his breath, avoiding a shaft of light as he heard the voices start moving around the car.  When he heard someone raise their voice and point out the many hiding places available within a vehicle like this, Q started breathing again, but only to hyperventilate.  ‘ _No.  Nonononono_.’  He did not want to be found.  He wanted to balance here in his panic and his fright until he was okay again - possibly forever, if that never happened.  Maybe until whatever was wrong with his brain detonated and put an end to this entire nightmare.  That last morbid thought wrung a desolate little mewl out of him, which gave his position away.  Instantly, voices were all around the car, and Q felt his panic rise to blinding levels.  He puffed up as much as he could, even though he was buried so deeply in the workings of the car that he couldn’t see anyone, and all his movements served to do was smear more grease and oil onto his pelt.  He hissed for all he was worth regardless, and then slipped and tumbled deeper into the car. 

Then Q heard the most blessed thing he could currently think of: Alec’s deep tones, ringing out and startling the voices all around Q, “James, get your arse and your damned dysfunctional Gift over here, I think I found him!”

Wherever Q was, it was clearly not a place frequented by people like Trevelyan and Bond, because there was a lot of startled whispering and tittering like a startled flock of sparrows.  Alec didn’t let all of them flutter away, though, as Q heard him grab and interrogate at least one person, confirming that they had indeed seen a black and white cat - and were, indeed, trying to seek out said cat in the innards of a damaged Aston Martin.  The replies were pretty stuttered, a sign that Alec was perhaps interrogating a bit harshly, but then another voice appeared as if by magic somewhere right above Q - James, interrupting, “He’s here, Alec.  I can hear him.  Q?”

‘ _I’m here!_ ’ Q thought back, adding in a slightly hysterical mew for good measure, in case James’ finicky Gift gave out.  For the first time, Q also realized… that he wasn’t entirely sure how to get out now. 

James made a growling sort of noise, and then translated from above, “Yeah, he’s here, and the little shit is stuck.”  A bit more quietly - perhaps just talking to Alec, and excluding the room at large - James added, “Stuck and panicked out of his mind.”

“Yeah, I figured, from what I heard about his exit from Medical,” Alec sighed, and Q was able to follow both of their voices and imagine his two favorite people circling the open front of the car and peering down into it.  “Keep making noise, boff, so we can find you,” Alec instructed with a levity in his voice that Q appreciated, regardless of whether or not it was fabricated.

So Q started calling out regularly, straining his voice while also trying to wriggle his way out.  Unfortunately, his paw wasn’t cooperating, and while he wasn’t exactly unfamiliar with the inner workings of cars - he found them rather fascinating, and had definitely studied mechanical textbooks for fun before - everything looks very different from his current, internal vantage point.  After slipping and landing in something dripping and wet, James (apparently listening telepathically as well as physically to Q’s little squeak of shock), commanded, “Just stay where you are, okay?”  Q made a tiny pathetic noise, because he was starting to really hate it in here, but he obeyed.  The claustrophobic feeling of the MRI machine was coming back, even worse because he was only fitting now because he wasn't human.  The thought of transforming back, his larger size not the least bit accommodated by the enclosed space, had Q’s heartbeat hammering.  He started trying to scramble out again, Bond’s orders forgotten.  He thought he heard James swear. 

Some of the people from before offered to help at that point, apparently getting over whatever shyness Alec and James’ arrival had induced.  That almost made things worse, because just as Q thought he saw an exit - an unfamiliar hand reached for him, all slim fingers and bright red fingernails.  He let loose his most vicious hiss and backed up so fast that his haunches clanged against something.  Before he knew what he was doing, Q had scrambled deeper into the car, and this time he could definitely hear James snarling out a heartfelt, “ _Fuck_.”

And then things got worse.

“What is it, James?” Alec asked, that stillness in his voice that meant he’d noticed a silent warning in his friend’s body language.  

When James spoke, his voice was low and carefully flat, “We’re not the only ones looking for a wayward boffin.”

“Is it that Seeker bastard?”

A pause, in which Q could imagine James cocking his head and telepathically listening.  “Yeah, it is,” he confirmed just a beat later.  Something lower and angrier had entered his voice.  “He’s getting closer, too.”

“Is his arsefaced partner with him?”

Q was beginning to get a sense that James and Alec did not like those two agents.

“People don’t usually name each other telepathically, but…  Yeah, he’s got someone with him that he’s familiar with,” James replied.  He was leaning over the car again, seeking around himself for Q, his voice directed downwards even as he kept informing Alec of what his Gift was telling him, “Both of them are reflecting on some pretty specific memories of Q as a cat, so I’m pretty sure now that it’s the same two that got him earlier.”

“That,” Alec said, voice somehow both deeply pleased and roughly brutal, “just made this entire debacle worthwhile.”  There was the sound of him clapping someone - presumably James - on the shoulder.  All of the other people previously moving around the car had gone quiet, and Q did, too, feeling as if a storm were looming, incipient lightning putting his messy fur on end.  “Think you can take care of our boffin?”

“Given enough time.”

“Good.  Then I’ll go and get you that time.  Wish me luck - and don’t wait up for me if I end up getting stuck in a holding cell overnight,” was Alec’s disturbingly chipper reply.  It was followed by a low, predatory growl that rumbled right down into the car and into Q’s bones, “It’ll be fucking worth it if I get to rearrange at least one of their faces.”

‘ _Alec!_ ’ Q tried to scold, but all that came out was a sharp meow, of course, and James did not translate.  Instead, the Telepath merely gave more detailed instructions regarding where he was ‘hearing’ the other agents from, and sent Alec on his way like a trouble-seeking missile.  

“He’ll be fine, Q,” James noted calmly down into the guts of the car where Q was anxiously crouched, “Let’s just focus on getting you out nice and safe, and we’ll worry about Alec’s habit of defending your honor later.  Now, look around you and try to picture what you see as clearly as you can in your head.”

It was hard to follow instructions like that when he was now starting to worry about Alec, but Q did his best, eyes widening and night-acquainted pupils taking in every ounce of light.  Nothing he saw made any particular sense to him, but James, having a cooler head on his shoulder right now, must have recognized something, because Q heard him make a sound of relief a second before he was asking someone to move something.  Q spooked at the ensuing noise and movement that he could sense above him, but James’ firm, “Don’t move, Q,” got him to simply huddle where he was until there was suddenly fluorescent light flooding in from above him.  He just barely caught a flash of blond hair and a tense smile before his vision was filled with a hand descending on him - and, unfortunately, it was reflex to hiss and extend his claws.  

 _Fortunately_ , someone had planned for that.  The hand that wrapped around Q’s middle was covered in a thick worker’s glove.  That didn’t help Q’s peace of mind any, because it felt like he was being grabbed in the leathery mouth of something, but it did prevent him from harming anyone as he was pulled kicking and biting from his most recent hiding place.  

“Hey, hey, easy there, Q, you’re all right,” came James’ voice, a worried croon.  Q gasped and stopped trying to chew through the glove when he belatedly realized that it was attached to his friend.  Mortified with himself, Q jerked his head around, trying and failing to get his bearings, but at least managing not to react violently as a second - bare - hand came up to cup his body from the other side.  Both hands now securely wrapped around Q’s little, flexing ribcage, James straightened and moved them both back from the car.  There were a _lot_ of other people around, Q noticed now, and that set his heart spasming in his chest again, alight with panic.  He thrashed and squirmed, and would have honestly darted right back into the guts of the car if he’d managed to get loose from Bond’s grip on him.  He just wanted to be somewhere safe and quiet, where no one was staring at him like he was some sort of freak-!

“You’re not a freak, Q,” James informed him, firmly but calmly, as the gloved hand adjusted itself so that it was under Q’s body - the other hand, to Q’s chagrin, got hold of his nape.  Somehow, that was soothing.  “And people are only staring because there’s no protocol for a cat in Q-branch.”

“So, wait…”  A young woman, apparently a Q-branch denizen, lifted a finger to point at Q’s incredulously, “...He’s a shapeshifter?  Not just some random cat?”

Embarrassed and reminded of his faulty Gift, Q clutched at the gloved hand under his body with all four feet, and tried to bury his head in shame behind James’ fingers.  He felt the fingers at his nape squeeze a little, and tried to hide his thoughts, too, even as they spun with thoughts of fear an inadequacy and _brokenness_.  

“What he is,” James said, with a new harshness to his voice that sent a little zing down Q’s spine, “doesn’t matter.  What matters is that I’m walking out of here with him, and if you tell anyone you saw us, I’ll set your branch on fire the next chance I get.”

“You wouldn’t,” some extremely stupid person gasped.

Q could imagine James’ smile - the cold one that he never used on Alec or Q, and which didn’t do a bloody thing to warm the glacial blue of his eyes.  “Try me.”

And with that, he turned on his heel, and Q found himself being up next to the familiar heat of James’s body.  The leather glove disappeared, instead leaving Q wrapped up in the more comforting warmth of Bond’s leather jacket as it was zipped up around him.  This time, Q didn’t mind the enclosed space, and found himself exhaling in relief.  When he inhaled, it felt like the first time he’d managed to fully inflate his lungs for the first time in hours.

“Don’t worry, Q, I’ve got you,” Bond whispered.  Q dug his claws into James’ shirt anyway.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which Q needs hugs, Alec gets a bit of chaos, and James is adult enough for all three of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for Q to get the cuddles he deserves <3

The frequency with which Q got himself into these situations did not escape him.  If jackets were something that a person could pay rent on, Q should have been paying through the nose for all of the time he spent tucked away in James’ jacket.  It made him feel weak and disgruntled, but not enough so to get him to move, even once he heard outdoor noises and then a car-door slamming followed by James giving directions to a cab-driver.  Feeling utterly miserable and wrung out emotionally and physically (he didn’t even know how long he’d blacked out for, or how far he’d run from Medical), Q tried to make himself comfortable, filling his little lungs with the familiar smell of bodywash and warm body.  James hadn’t spoken in a while, but he was rhythmically stroking Q’s side through his jacket, and Q got the sense that his thoughts were being avidly listened to.  He tried to find annoyance at that, but found that he couldn’t. 

Instead, he just made full use of James’ presumed nosiness and replayed the events in Medical in his thoughts - from the unexpected claustrophobia of the MRI to his gnawing fear that something was wrong with him.  James didn’t say anything, but by the time the cab pulled to a stop at James and Alec’s address, Bond had gone very, very still.  Story finished by then, Q merely inhaled and exhaled a ragged sigh, rubbing his whiskers against Bond’s shirt in an attempt to distract himself with the sensory overload.  

Bond paid the cabby and carefully tucked one arm around his middle, a reflexive move by now to ensure that his feline companion didn’t fall out of the bottom of his jacket.  Bond’s other hand unzipped his jacket a bit, although when Q looked up blearily, all he saw was that James was fishing out his keys from an inside pocket - and his phone.  Q heard the barely discernible noises that heralded texting.  Since Q knew that James was pretty clumsy as a one-handed texter, this had to be important.  ‘ _What are you doing?_ ’ he asked, without moving from where he was.  He could have peered out of the opening in James’ jacket, but that took effort.  

James was indeed listening closely, because he answered as quickly as he would to a verbal question, “Texting Alec to tell him to take a shit on Dr. Harper’s head.  Or maybe peck her eyes out.”

A bit startled by the quiet violence in Bond’s tone, Q just blinked stupidly at the sliver of light from the open neck of James’ jacket for a moment.  It wasn’t until he heard the building door open that he rebooted his brain to think back, ‘ _James, no, the woman was just-_ ’

“Being an insult to the entire medical profession?  A sadist?  Utterly incapable of realizing that she was dealing with a patient and not a criminal in need of punishment?” James interrupted with no less violence in his voice.  Perhaps noticing Q’s shock, he took a deep breath - chest and belly rising and falling warmly against Q’s side - and then went on with more calm, “None of that should have happened to you, Q.  At the very least, she shouldn’t have allowed someone to just waltz in while you were having an MRI.”

‘ _So you were reading my thoughts this entire time_.’

“Does that bother you?” James asked gruffly instead of answering, and began taking them up the stairs to the flat that was basically Q’s second home by now.

For once, Q felt like the mindreader, sensing James’ defensiveness and anxiety behind the question as easily as if it had been shouted from a rooftop.  ‘ _No, not really.  I mean, it would be awfully inconvenient if you respect my privacy when I’m like this, wouldn’t it?_ ’ he said, and physically felt James relax a bit.  ‘ _I kind of figured you were listening in_.’

There was a long pause, in which James just continued walking, eventually reaching the door to his and Alec’s shared rooms and unlocking it.  Only once they were inside did he respond, voice quiet and low but filled with a heavy sort of emotion that Q thought was like anger, but deeper and more complicated, “M likes to listen in, too.”

Q shivered.  ‘ _I noticed that.  She’s… She’s a lot more trained than you, isn’t she?_ ’

“And stronger,” James admitted.  It was hard to tell whether his voice held respect, or fear.  Maybe a healthy dose of both.  Q was starting to realize that James had a very complicated relationship with M.

And of course James picked that up, too, but this time the response was a more jovial one: he began chuckling as he reset the lock behind him with a quiet click of tumblers.  “You’ve got that right,” he admitted wryly.  He sobered a bit, continuing, “She’s…  She’s all right.”  Which, from James, was pretty high praise.  Nonetheless, he added in a tone that was more serious still, “Just try not to be around her when I’m not there, all right?  Even if it’s you and Alec.  Let me know.  Avoid her until I’m there.”

 _‘James…_?’ Q asked slowly, finally using his claws to climb up the inside of James’ jacket and poke his head out, ears swiveling with concern, ‘.. _.Is she dangerous?_ ’

The blue eyes that looked down at him were torn.  It was the look, Q realized, of someone who didn’t have a lot of people he trusted, and who was struggling to perhaps open the group up to new people - people like M, who was capable of understanding James in a way that no one else could, but who also ran a spy organization that necessitated loose morals and questionable actions.  Q felt suddenly sorry for James, trying to figure out what to do with relationships like that.  Not sure how to voice this thought while James was clearly trying to fumble for an answer of his own, Q braced his forepaws over the lip of James’ open jacket and leaned up until he could butt his head against the underside of his friend’s jaw.  He heard James grunt in surprise, but his exhale sounded relieved. 

It also seemed to unlock James’ words a bit, and his answer came even as Q sank back down again, mission completed, “She’s as dangerous as she needs to be, which I can respect.  But that can also make her a bit of an arsehole, and you and Alec don’t have defenses against her like I do.  So…”

‘ _Avoid her unless I’m with you?_ ’ Q guessed.  He wasn’t terribly bothered by the prospect; M honestly terrified him, so he wasn’t exactly keen on being alone with her.  Or anyone else in MI6, really.

“Exactly.”  James blew out another breath of relief, clearly glad that he was getting through to Q.  “I can protect you a bit, or at least keep her honest if she tries to be a bitch.”

Q let out a little _mrrffft_ noise that was the closest he could come to a chortle.  ‘ _You just called your boss a bitch, James_ ,’ he noted.

“Since I’m polite enough not to even think that she’s a bitch when I’m within range of her, I figure I deserve to say it out loud in the comfort of my own home,” the older boy stated candidly, before walking them both into the bathroom.  “Now, are you going to transform back, or am I washing motor oil off of your fur in the sink?”

‘ _I can wash myself!_ ’ Q hurried to say, and ignored James’ chuckles in favor of trying to scramble out of his jacket.  James helped him after a moment, plucking Q out of his erstwhile nest and setting him considerately down on the bathroom floor.  

At which point Q hit a snag.

He couldn’t get himself to change back.  

The failure of that made him sag, all of his insecurities and fears of earlier today overrunning him again, a tidal wave of humiliation and helplessness.  James physically jumped as he read all of this in Q’s mind, and then was quickly dropping to his haunches on the floor.  Hands reached out but didn’t touch as if unsure what to do, but wanting to ensure that Q didn’t run off somewhere - another bad habit that Q had to admit he had, at least in this form.  “Shhhh, Q, it’s okay,” James said, sounding painfully earnest for a bloke who was training to be a spy.  When Q slicked his ears back and let out a plaintive sound, James winced in reciprocal sadness but kept talking, “Just because that monster of a woman insisted on scanning your brain doesn’t mean something’s wrong with you.  Come on, it’s not like you’re the only person to ever have problems with your Gift.”  He let his left hand come closer, daring to skim his fingertips down Q’s eggshell of a spine.  “Hell, even mine doesn’t quite work right.  That’s why we’re all still practicing and learning.”

‘ _Yes, but when yours doesn’t work, that just means you have to ask questions like a normal person instead of getting the answer out of someone’s head!_ ’ Q exploded back, little jaws parting in a yowl to match, ‘ _When my Gift goes on the fritz, I’m stuck in a body the size of a bread-loaf and lacking opposable thumbs!  And I can’t even wash myself like a regular cat would because I don’t know how!_ ’  The fact that Q couldn’t even ‘cat’ very well was an accepted fact by now, and galling enough that Q tried not to think on it too often.  His tail and his purr reflex were still alien things that mostly just did whatever they wanted to, whenever they wanted to, and it was a miracle, frankly, that Q hadn’t gotten his tail lopped off in a door out of sheer clumsiness.  When he sharply thought this, James sighed and ran a tired hand down over his face, unable to come up with a particular argument for that.  He’d been with Alec through his ‘learning how to be a raven’ phase, and it had gone a lot more smoothly than Q’s ‘how the hell do I cat’ phase.  

“Look, Q, even if there is something causing your Gift to act up, we’ll get through it, okay?” the blue-eyed young man tried next, dropping his hand from his face so that both arms draped loosely over his knees.  Q tried to keep up a piqued glare, refusing to be mollified.  He even arched his back up a bit for good measure, although his fur was an atrocious mess and he couldn’t get it to stand on end like he wanted to.  He probably looked like less like a cat and more like something the cat had dragged in, so it was hard to maintain any kind of dignity, especially as James persisted with a tiny uptick at one corner of his mouth, “And besides, you’re cute as a button like this.”

‘ _I’m messy and in no way resemble a button._ ’

“You’re small, mostly black, and when not covered in grease and motor oil, quite shiny,” James ticked off on his fingers, and then added what Q least expected, and in a voice gone soft, “and you hold things together.”

Suddenly, Q was transported to what Alec had said earlier that day: about James not having many friends (basically just Alec and Q) and valuing them fiercely.  Too late, he recalled that he had a Telepath in his head, even as James’ blue eyes flared briefly in surprise.  Instead of getting upset, though, James just scrubbed a hand back through his hair and looked away in embarrassment.  “Well, I didn’t hear that conversation,” was all he said.  Q, his temper rather deflated, sat down and stopped trying to look angry and intimidating.  One hand still in his hair at the back of his neck, James raised one eyebrow and went on, “Would it help if I said I don’t actually mind washing you off?  Like this, I mean.”  His free hand gestured at Q vaguely, even as the embarrassment level rose in the room.  James made it worse when his mouth kept moving, “I guess I wouldn’t mind even if you were human.  Alec has come back from a night out a few times and sicked up on himself, and I’ve had to help him out a few times, as a bird and as a human, so…”  

‘ _Fine!  Fine_ ,’ Q cut him off, feeling like he was spontaneously combusting beneath his fur.  At least the blushes weren’t visible.  He didn’t know if he wanted to hear more details about James having to be the responsible one and help his roommate in the shower.  Part of him _really_ wanted to hear details, but the other part of him was a virgin prude who’d already had a very, very long day.  ‘ _I’ll let you… help me.  Wash up in the sink.  But only because I don’t want to lick this off myself or wait to change back!_ ’

James’ face split into an easy smile, triumphant.  “All right then, come on,” he said, clicking his tongue and stretching out his hands to waggle coaxing fingers Q’s way.  Making a show of rolling his eyes, Q got up and stepped forward into James’ grip, limping only a little on his bad paw before letting strong hands slip beneath his forelegs.  Q let himself go limp as he was lifted up, pedaling his dangling hindlegs only at the end, before he was lowered into the sink-basin.  He was not looking forward to this… but he was looking forward to getting all of the smelly gunk off his fur.  Maybe he could handle all of the other traumas of the day if he just got this bit of awful off himself. 

Turning on the tap but leaving the drain unplugged, James folded his arms and leaned lazily against the sink.  He commanded with a little flick of his fingers, “Let’s see what comes off on its own.  Walk under the water like a good little furball.”

Q got his tail to cooperate for once, lifting it imperiously even as he fixed James with a verdant glare.  ‘ _This furball_ ,’ he thought the words succinctly, ‘ _has four sets of claws and a mouthful of teeth and germs capable of giving you gangrene._ ’

James’ eyebrows winged up towards his hairline, but Q secretly suspected that James had been teasing in the hopes of exactly this kind of response.  This was a little taste of normalcy between them.  “Fine then, not a furball,” James at least pretended to give in, while Q pretended not to be amused, “A tiny predator - walk under the water like a good little Komodo dragon.”

This time, Q was unable to help the little scoffing noise that came out of his chest, humor filling him.  He spared a little thought about how insufferable James was, knowing all the while that the Telepath saw right through him to the fond appreciation beneath.  Feeling calmer already, Q finally did as he was told, walking his small body under the faucet and flicking his ears as warm water spilled across his head and neck.  No wonder cats hated water; Q wasn’t particularly fond of the sensation of water spilling across his sensitive whiskers, or how it seeped into his ears.  He flicked them repeatedly to keep them dry, but it was useless.  Letting loose a _mrrrrow_ of disapproval, Q nonetheless angled himself this way and that, watching the water turn dark and grimy as it swirled down the drain.  It was distressing to realize how dirty he was.  No sooner had Q thought that the water could at least be a bit warmer than James was reaching over him, silently adjusting the taps until it was sluicing over Q’s back at a perfect temperature.  Having a Telepath around could be very nice indeed, Q decided, as he relaxed further. 

“Okay, I think that that’s all you’re going to get off without soap,” James decided a bit later.  He sounded regretful, but he reached around for the handsoap nonetheless, getting a sizable dollop onto one hand.  “I don’t know the first thing about hand-washing a cat, but since I know that you don’t either, I suppose we’ll just figure this out as we go,” he murmured, frowning thoughtfully, “If I do anything that you don’t like… well, I guess I’ll know instantly anyway, and I’ll stop.”

Yes, having a Telepath around was very useful indeed.  It eased more of the tension from Q’s shoulders, and he was able to resist the urge to squirm away at least until James had both hands on him.  Then, of course, Q squeaked in displeasure, but James was already rubbing suds into his back while his other hand cupped Q’s chest to prevent escape.  Apparently James knew his friend’s mind well enough that he could tell the difference between an impulsive desire to bolt and actual discomfort.  Still, he was careful, and Q gave an appreciative little quiver as he realized just how much effort James was putting into his handling of Q.  James and Alec both had hands made for breaking things - more and more so, with every day that MI6 trained them - yet he now massaged soap lightly into black fur, slowly revealing the small patches of white that had been previously hidden, all the while being mindful of thin skin and slender bones.  And indeed, in the instant something became uncomfortable (a rub that was too hard, an angle that pushed his fur too much in the wrong direction, a bit of grease that was sticky enough that it pulled instead of going away instantly), and James adjusted without a word.  It was honestly uncanny just how seamlessly James changed what he was doing to better match what made Q comfortable.  Some awkwardness was unavoidable, of course, because within the body of a cat Q was still very much a human, but by the time James declared him clean and let go so that Q could rinse himself off, no damage had been done.  Q felt, if not relaxed, than at least more at ease than he’d been before.  And only a little awkward as he thought about how James had had to rub oil off his left thigh.

Catching the thought even as he sat back on the closed toilet seat, James chuckled.  “If it helps, that was more embarrassing for you than it was for me,” he said, ignoring the water dripping from his fingertips as he draped his forearms over his knees and smirked, “You might always see yourself as human, but for Alec and I, it’s a pretty abstract concept.  I’m fairly sure that we could give you belly-rubs as a cat without ever feeling the slightest bit sexual.” 

Beneath his fur, Q flushed, but hid it by ducking his head under the running faucet.  Then he turned back sharply, for once ignoring the water that funneled into his ear.  ‘ _Wait, even Alec?  But Alec’s a shapeshifter, too_.’

James frowned, going from teasing to contemplative.  He scratched his jaw idly as he went through his memories.  “No,” he said slowly, “Alec doesn’t have the same issues that you do, with his human versus his animal body.  If he’s a raven and I grab his beak fighting over a cookie, it’s just a beak to him.” 

There was no need to ask if James was sure of this; being inside of people’s heads meant that he could be uniquely certain of Alec’s thought process in these situations.  Q turned, water sluicing off his flanks as he pursued the topic, ‘ _Are other shapeshifters more like him, or like me?_ ’

“You two are really the only ones I read regularly,” James hedged, but apparently the beseeching tone in Q’s mind or in his eyes got through to him, because the Telepath made a pained face and tried to give more of an answer, “You’re honestly the only shapeshifter I’ve heard of who had such a hard time adjusting on your first shift.  I mean, it took Alec awhile to learn how to fly, but you struggled with everything.”  He gave a helpless shrug.  “Even standing.  I think most shapeshifters catch on more quickly - no offense.”

‘ _None taken_ ,’ Q thought back automatically, sitting down.  The water tried to tug his tail down the drain, but he wasn’t paying attention.  

“Q,” James said, to catch his attention.  The blond-haired young man was rubbing one temple idly.  “You’re thinking so fast that even I can keep up.”   Blue eyes flicked past Q to the water, and James’ mouth quirked slightly as he added, “And if you stay under that water much longer, we’re going to learn if a cat can get pruny.”  

While Q fumbled with a response to that - and his brain probably provided gads of responses for James’ telepathy to pick up - James just stood and went to grab a towel, turning off the faucet as he did.  Q found himself being picked up a moment later, a sure hand sliding under his chest while the other dumped a fluffy blue towel across the back of him.  Q shivered and sneezed, trying to get a grip on James’ supporting hand without breaking the skin with his claws.  “Don’t transform now,” James warned, “I know from experience with Alec that all of this water will transfer to your clothes if you change back, but will be easy to dry off now if I just towel you off.”  He began to do just that, despite Q’s displeased growls at being vigorously rubbed with a towel.  This was most unseemly.  Ignoring Q’s thoughts on the subject, James demurely finished his statement, “Because shapeshifter physics.”

‘ _I hate shapeshifter physics_ ,’ Q grumped.  He squirmed but James’ hold was firm, and the placement of his hand under Q’s chest made it hard for Q’s limbs to get traction.  So the little shapeshifter was left paddling his legs in midair, occasionally clinging to James’ wrist and losing little hisses and growls - which James patently ignored.

Q wasn’t released until he felt like his entire pelt had been rubbed off, and he was placed on the kitchen counter - apparently James had walked them into the kitchen while towelling off his minute friend.  ‘ _You’re a sadist_ ,’ Q accused, getting a look at his fluffy self in the side of the toaster.  ‘ _I look like an explosion of black lint.  Or like Alec if you stuffed him in the drier_.’

James barked out a laugh as he pulled something out of the fridge and stuck it in the microwave.  “That,” he said, quite gravely but with a smile, “has actually happened.”  He didn’t elaborate further, instead taking a moment to check his phone for texts while the microwave hummed.  Q wasn’t sure he wanted to know details; since Alec was still living, it couldn’t have ended that badly.  “No word from Alec yet, which either means he’s still acting as the hand of vengeance, or he’s already been put in a holding cell for the night,” James reported as if it were no big deal, even while Q’s eyes bugged out a little.  Q’s worried thoughts must have caught Bond’s attention, because he twitched a beat later, losing the relaxed tone a little to say, “Don’t worry, Q.  Alec knows what he’s doing.”

‘ _What he’s doing_ ,’ Q thought, a bit weakly, ‘ _is taking on two fully grown MI6 agents out of some misplaced protective instinct for me_.’

“I wouldn’t call it misplaced…”

‘ _Really?  That’s the part of my statement you choose to take issue with?_ ’

“Yup.”  James smiled brightly, as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, and then purposefully changed subjects, the bastard.  “If I find the space-heater and let you sit in front of it, will you stop fretting about shapeshifting and MRI results?”

Q wanted to stubbornly say no, but the truth was, James’ offer sounded heavenly.  Q found his resolve wavering, which was all a Telepath needed, really - James turned with a little chuckle and began to hunt up said space-heater, returning from the closet just as the microwave beeped.  Q was still sitting where he’d left him, damp and frazzled by the toaster, and wishing desperately that he knew the first thing about getting his fur to lie flat.  By the sad but sympathetic little smile James cast him, he heard that, too.  Q couldn’t recall the last time James had been this perceptive for this long, and he wasn’t sure whether to be worried or impressed.  James usually read Q and Alec’s minds better than anyone else’s, even more so when they were in animal form and depended upon that telepathy, but usually even then, James’ ‘reception’ was spotty.

The space-heater was put on a chair so that it pointed at the foot of the bed - beds plural, rather, since the tableau of this morning had not been changed.  James came back as the machine began warming up, hooking a hand under Q’s middle again and scooping him up without warning.  Q _meeped_ even as he was tucked against a warm side, and James opened the microwave to fetch its contents with his free hand.  Immediately, Q’s nose twitched as he smelled leftover rotisserie chicken.  “I thought that might improve your mood a bit,” James observed, and Q gave him a halfhearted glare.

‘ _Nosy bastard_ ,’ he informed him, without much heat.  Already, Q found his whole body straining towards the chicken.

“That’s what they train me for,” James replied cheerily.  He transported everything to the bed, where he propped himself against the headboard, but set down the container of chicken closer to the space-heater so that Q could eat and dry out at the same time.  By this point, Q had finally calmed down enough to realize that he was starving, the drain of shapeshifting hitting him full-force so that he was scarfing down chicken almost fast enough to choke on it.  

James, just as wordlessly as he’d accommodated Q during his wash, leaned forward wordlessly and began tearing the chicken into smaller pieces so that Q could take them more delicately.  He just sat and watched Q eat for a while, a companionable silence enfolding them as Q’s fur fluffed out and his belly filled.  Eventually James cleaned off his fingers, and stroked a hand down Q’s spine - ostensibly to help flatten out the fur, but Q also just found it comforting, especially when the older boy paused to just rub his thumb at that spot between Q’s shoulder-blades that he liked.  

“It’s really going to be all right, Q,” James eventually broke the quiet, voice hushed and deeply sincere.  His hand stopped its movements, simply resting across Q’s shoulders - a gesture that was equally soothing to both a cat and a young boffin.  “You might be different, and maybe your brain just doesn’t like to admit when it’s in a cat’s body, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.”  James paused, while Q looked up at him with big, unsure eyes, silently asking how James knew this.  In answer, James met his gaze seriously and murmured firmly, “Your mind feels perfect to me.”  He moved his thumb to stroke it gently along the edge of Q’s ear, looking a bit embarrassed but determined to make it clear that he was serious. 

Q shuddered down to his core, and for the first time since entering MI6 this morning… he thought he felt okay.  Letting James read the wordless cloud of gratitude for himself, Q just let out a little mew and left the warm radius of the space-heater to instead climb up James’ trouserleg and onto his lap.  He was accepted gladly onto James’ stomach as the agent-in-training leaned back against the headboard, making himself comfortable with his small companion making a pillow of him. 

There was no more talking after that.  Q was clean, full, exhausted, and his mind had been put at ease just enough for him to be quickly lulled to sleep by the feeling of James’ hand stroking his ears down against his head.

~^~

Some hours later, with night already descended on the world, there would be a thump and then a tap-tap-tapping at the window.  Q would be dead asleep, but James’ blue eyes would open in the dark.  He wouldn’t startle.  He’d simply ease his hands beneath the little body on his middle (still in cat form, making him easier to handle), setting Q aside on the pillow so that he could roll soundlessly off the bed and go open the window.  A raven would be waiting for him, feathers a bit ruffled but mind bright and triumphant.  James would snort as he read thoughts of tricks played and threads of minor chaos sown, but all he’d do would be to reach out and pick Alec up as he’d picked up Q, taking the last member of their trio into the house.  Window closed and latched again, James would check Alec over for injuries out of habit, fingers soothing over silken black feathers, mind filled with the passive sense of contentment that echoed from Alec’s mind in response.  He’d ask a few questions, chuckle a few times.  Mostly, he’d be secretly glad that Alec was all right, and had managed to make life difficult for the men who’d hurt Q - without, thankfully, incurring the wrath of MI6.  At least, not yet. 

James would have the fleeting thought that, just maybe, MI6’s wrath would fall upon all three of them someday in their future.  He’d also have a fleeting, mischievous smile just thinking about it, like the look on a fox’s face as it thinks about henhouses.  

By the time James would finish checking Alec over, the raven-Shifter would be tired.  Like Q, his body would be feeling the effects of changing shape.  He’d want sleep instead of food, though, so James would return to the bed with a new animal companion, and wouldn’t have to ask whether Alec wanted the company.  Q asleep and Alec nearly so, James would be the wakeful one, moving everyone carefully, settling in, tugging blankets.  James would end up on his back, a kitten and a raven on his chest like mingled puddles of black. 

Even though he could feel the strain on his Gift - not as bad as it could have been, back when he’d been weaker, less tested and trained - James would keep his mind awake, listening to the sounds of two sleeping minds.  Their thoughts were fuzzy and indistinct, but as dear to him as the patter of rain against a dry, thirsty earth. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case I don't return to this series again (at least for a very long while), I want to reassure everyone that Q's condition is not really some sort of tumor or brain malfunction. His chat with James about how different Shifters act was supposed to hint at the fact that Q's brain is simply very special - and very stubborn. It's never been eager to accept that it isn't in a human body, and sometimes 'rebells' (causing the blackouts). So Q's not sick, he's merely too brainy for his own good. 
> 
> On a side-note, I didn't realize how much I enjoyed writing 'adult and responsible Bond' until this chapter <3 Woe betide anyone who wants to threaten the little family of a protective Telepath...

**Author's Note:**

> This is why you don't mess with this trio: Q is a sweet cinnamon bun who must be protected at all costs, James is not above using his telepathy to locate targets, and Alec is vengeance incarnate once he knows that Q is in safe hands. M might lose a Seeker...


End file.
